Brother Immortal
by CharlieCaller
Summary: He maybe gone, but his brother's spirit will always remain with him. [Warning: character death.]


Disclaimer: I do not own the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles, never have, never will. I am not making any money from this, so please do not sue me. Again, I do not own the song "My Immortal" by Evanescence, again I am not making any money from using it, again do not sue me.  
  
Warning: Character death.  
  
Note: My first TMNT fic. Unsure as to whether this will work or not. Under the influence of Evanescence's album Fallen when writing this. I hope you like it, in any case.  
  
~~  
  
Brother Immortal  
  
~~  
  
The New York sunset was a black blanket smeared with crimson red that evening. The rain of the past four days was only just beginning to cease, still spitting in some large, dirty puddles along the uneven streets. Fast, fierce footsteps beat in those puddles, splashing and splattering before they settled following the disturbance. Heavy panting accompanied those footfalls, from a figure that felt like he had been running for days, weeks even, never stopping to breathe or think.  
  
Finally he came to a halt, succumbing to the pain and aching in his legs and heart. He leaned over a bridge, his heavy head resting on his arms. The water trickled by below him almost silently, the occasionally piece of rubbish floating peacefully along with the current. A crumpled soda can, an empty packet of cigarettes, a shred of orange cloth... The figure spotted it instantly and pounded a raw fist into the stone rail of the bridge. "Damn," he cursed to himself, wiping away the tears that he would later deny.  
  
He stopped for a moment, hearing something. He drew his sais, an immediate reaction to any sign of danger, and waited for the possible attack. The cruel attack never came, instead he heard the mellow sounds of a guitar fill the air. The gentle plucking of strings almost seemed to flow with the water running by below him, and the turtle wondered where the song came from. He jumped to the bank below, following the sweet sounds of the acoustic guitar. Beneath the bridge sat a girl, about sixteen or so years old, wrapped up in her own world of music and ignorant of the strange presence. In the moonlight he could see her long, dark hair and shadows beneath her eyes. She created beauty and emotion as she played, all the time making it look effortless. After some bars, she broke into song.  
  
~  
  
I'm so tired of being here  
  
Suppressed by all my childish fears  
  
And if you have to leave  
  
I wish that you would just leave  
  
'Cause your presence still lingers here  
  
And it won't leave me alone  
  
These wounds won't seem to heal  
  
This pain is just too real  
  
There's just too much that time cannot erase  
  
~  
  
The figure sat on the bank, listening to the talented girl's song. Her lyrics brought back the events of the past few days to him, slowly at first. The fight in the park. They were just a bunch of punks with clubs and chains and no experience. Just some kids trying to be tough, he remembered. They had picked a fight with an elderly man; trying to steal what little money he had, just for kicks. The turtles had been training when they had seen the mugging. In a flash they had jumped down from the rooftops to the large gang. The man escaped, calling thanks to the mysterious heroes.  
  
There were about fourteen or fifteen of the older teenagers, two girls and the rest boys. The supposed leader of the gang told the girls, Carla and Stacey, to make a run for it, and the turtles let them go, as they avoided fighting girls if possible. Not because they thought the girls could not hold their own, but because they felt that it was just not right. In the meantime, the turtles began fighting the rest of the gang, quickly taking care of them. It was an easy job, as the boys were young and inexperienced fighters. The turtles were walking away when they heard the shot that split the silence of the night.  
  
The brothers turned around sharply, facing the source of the sound. The two girls had brought back up, in the form of larger, tougher males. One man, with a ring pierced through his lower lip, raised the gun and shot at the nearest target, Michelangelo. Leonardo yelled, Donatello gasped and Raphael screamed as Michelangelo hit the ground with a soft thud. Leo and Donny launched themselves at the gang in a furious rage, whilst Raph skidded to a halt beside his fallen brother.  
  
"Mikey," Raphael whispered, his voice quavering. He took his brother's hand in his own and squeezed it hard, letting him know he was there for him. He stood, taking out the thugs that approached him whilst remaining close to his brother.  
  
"You lowlifes are gonna pay for this," he growled as he kicked and punched, more verve in his fight than ever. He left Leonardo and Donatello to dispose of the last few, and returned to the side of his ailing brother.  
  
"Mikey, it's Raph," he said, trying to be strong for the sake of his brother. He removed his red bandana and used it to try and stop the flow of blood from Michelangelo's stomach, to little avail. "Hang in there, bro, you gotta hang in there," he urged, growing more and more anxious by the minute.  
  
"Raph," Mikey murmured, his face contorted in pain. "Man, it hurts..."  
  
"I know, Mikey," Raph said softly, the sound of his brother's voice raising his spirits slightly. He took his brother's head and shoulders in his arms, squeezing him slightly. "Just hang in there, okay, we'll get help soon. It'll be okay, y'hear? You'll be fine." He tried to convince himself as much as his brother, but it was difficult. What could be done?  
  
"Raph, tell... tell Leo and Don I love them, and Master Splinter, and April and Casey..." Michelangelo said, choking on blood at the end of the sentence. "You too, bro. I love you."  
  
"No way, Mikey, don't talk like that," Raphael scolded, biting back the tears. It couldn't be happening, surely it was some kind of nightmare. "Don't go making travel plans yet, pal, you're not going anywhere. Come on, Mikey, y'hear me?"  
  
The thugs, knowing that they had done enough damage, disappeared from the park quickly, leaving Donatello and Leonardo to hurry over to where their brother lay.  
  
Michelangelo's head lolled to one side in Raphael's arms, his lungs taking one final shuddering breath. Raphael looked down and gasped. "Mikey! Mikey, no!" He screamed, at a total loss as to what he could do. "Come on, Mikey, say something!"  
  
With tears spilling over his eyes, Donatello performed checks over his brother, searching for even the faintest pulse or slightest sign of breathing. After what felt like hours Donatello looked up and shook his head before quickly bowing his head and sobbing silently to himself.  
  
Leonardo put an arm around each of the turtles, and all three shed their tears for their lost brother.  
  
~  
  
When you cried I'd wipe away all of your tears  
  
When you'd scream I'd fight away all of your fears  
  
I held your hand through all of these years  
  
But you still have  
  
All of me  
  
~  
  
Raphael remembered that day all too well, and all the days that followed, with their dark curtain of despondency hanging over them. Those around him said barely a word to each other during that time. Splinter, though he did his best to comfort his sons, was greatly distressed by the news, and when he was not meditating could be found wandering around the lair slowly with red, glassy eyes. Leonardo trained hard, pounding his anger into the punch-bag as Raphael often found himself doing. Donatello kept himself to himself, staying in his refuge of a workshop, only coming out for food. Raphael coped by hunting down every gang in New York, to make sure they paid well for the death of his brother. He had not yet found the gang that had killed Michelangelo, but he swore he would keep looking until he did. He would not kill them, but he would make sure to leave them with many scars and marks, ones that would fade but would never be forgotten. Like the one on Raphael's heart.  
  
Fade, but never forgotten. The words sped through Raphael's mind as he pounded through the streets of New York. He had tried to forget about Michelangelo, tried to block the memories of what happened so he could live in ignorant bliss. Every time he tried, he saw something and it reminded him like a slap in the face. Memories of Michelangelo would come back to him, to haunt him. He looked out for Michelangelo, the turtle seen as the 'little brother' to the other three. When he was hurt or scared, Raphael would provide comfort for him. Sometimes he would tease him, in front of the others, but Raphael would always let Michelangelo know that as long as he was there, he'd let nothing hurt him. He'd broken the promise. He'd failed to help Michelangelo when he was hurt, he couldn't help him or protect and for that he was being punished.  
  
~  
  
You used to captivate me  
  
By your resonating mind  
  
Now I'm bound by the life you left behind  
  
Your face it haunts  
  
My once pleasant dreams  
  
Your voice it chased away  
  
All the sanity in me  
  
These wounds won't seem to heal  
  
This pain is just too real  
  
There's just too much that time cannot erase  
  
~  
  
Raphael talked to Master Splinter about it one day, a week or so after the tragedy. Splinter himself was starting to come to terms with the death of his son, and was now well enough to help another. "My son," he said in a soft voice. "You did not fail, there is nothing you could have done. What matters is that you were there by his side when he did need you, in his last moments, and that is all he could have asked of you."  
  
"But Master," Raphael insisted, "I promised him that I'd be there for him, to protect him, I always told him so. The one time he needed me the most, I couldn't be there for him."  
  
"The one time he needed you? My son, you forget that you have helped your brother many, many other times. Remember those times, and perhaps think of what could have been, had you not been there to help."  
  
Bearing this in mind, Raphael left to think about the times that he had helped his brother. There were minor incidents, like when Michelangelo was hungry so Raphael had dared go into the kitchen late one night and grab some cookies for his brother. There were the times when his brother was ill, and Raphael would fervently help Splinter tend to the sick turtle. There were countless times in battle that Raphael would fight with Michelangelo, to ease the pressure from his brother.  
  
There was one instance, though, that sat in Raphael's mind and refused to go away. It took place not quite a year before, when the turtles were still relatively new to the ways of the topside world. Raphael and Michelangelo had been on a training run when they had encountered a gang of bikers. It took all of the efforts of the two turtles to hold their own against the gang, who were tough fighters. The gang soon realised that the turtles were not so easy to beat, and consequently they retreated and ran back to their bikes. They left, but not before one of them sped directly into Michelangelo. The turtle went flying before crashing to the ground and rolling and skidding at a great speed on his side and his shell, only halting when he slammed into a wall. Raphael cursed the bikers loudly and repeatedly as they roared away, laughing in their helmets at the spectacular sight.  
  
Michelangelo survived the crash, but was gravely ill for some days following it. Raphael remained by his brother's side throughout those days, despite orders to get some sleep or eat something. But no, he would not leave his brother for more than a minute, just in case. During that time the others saw a caring side of Raphael, and it almost worried them. They tried to get him to open up about what had happened, but Raphael did not want to relive what he had seen.  
  
Raphael remembered that time and smiled despite himself. He had been there for Michelangelo then, as if his brother had encountered the gang by himself, Michelangelo would have died alone in that alley. Michelangelo had known it too; Raphael could remember vividly the first words his brother had spoken when he had awoken. "Hey, Raph," Mikey had said in the hoarsest of whispers, "I owe you one."  
  
Still, Raphael thought to himself, it did not wholly make up for the fact that he had failed his brother in the park the day Michelangelo had died. Nothing could comfort him; he had to live with the nightmares and the guilt for the rest of his life.  
  
~  
  
When you cried I'd wipe away all of your tears  
  
When you'd scream I'd fight away all of your fears  
  
I held your hand through all of these years  
  
But you still have  
  
All of me  
  
~  
  
Days turned to passing weeks, and even though his brother was gone and had been for some time, nothing was final. It sometimes drove Raphael crazy to see how the others had coped so well with their brother's death. He understood that Sensei was looking better, but the rat had seen so much in his life that he had been forced to cope with such things. He realised that images of Splinter's Master Yoshi's demise must have played heavily on his mind since Michelangelo's death, and that much meditation would have been needed to calm the flashbacks. Leonardo seemed to be adjusting well to life without Michelangelo, returning to training and occasionally returning to the topside world to fight the Foot, if he came across them. Donatello and Raphael would occasionally join him, but more often than not he fought alone. Donatello was more quiet and reflective than he had been before Michelangelo's death. He worked harder and took care of himself less, eating less and barely sleeping at all. Raphael imagined that this would be how Donatello would cope with such an event, by burying himself in his work.  
  
Raphael was coping the worst of all his brothers. Of all of them, he was closest to Michelangelo, and he felt the sting of losing him the worst. In the weeks following his brother's death he would go through extreme mood swings, some days beating the life out of the punch bags in the dojo, others running through the city for hours, and some days just sitting quietly in his room, alone.  
  
Sometimes, when Raphael became so low that tomorrow looked shaky and unclear, a chill would whip around him and the room would feel just a little less dark and empty. Raphael knew that Michelangelo was watching him, keeping an eye on Raphael in death like Raphael had for his brother done in life. Instead of feeling comforted by this, it angered Raphael and he would scream and shout out. "Just leave me alone! You're gone, isn't that enough? What do you want now, huh?" Raphael did not understand why his brother would haunt him as he did. It only made Raphael yearn for his brother more. "Leave me alone!"  
  
After enough of Raphael's shouting, the room would grow darker and emptier, and Raphael would be alone again to cry for his lost brother.  
  
~  
  
I've tried so hard to tell myself that you're gone  
  
But though you're still with me  
  
I've been alone all along  
  
~  
  
Michelangelo would never leave Raphael alone for long. The force returned occasionally for a moment, as though checking up on things, before drifting away again. At first Raphael thought that he was going mad, but in his heart he knew that it could only be Mikey.  
  
A few months passed, and just as Raphael and the others were beginning to come to terms with his brother's death, the three brothers stumbled upon the very gang that had caused the death. They were running through a park, training and practicing their stealth, when they heard a great amount of noise. They stopped to investigate when they recognised the gang, and the gang in turn recognised them. For a moment no words were exchanged, only looks that could easily have killed.  
  
"We meet again, freaks," one of the men growled after some time.  
  
"I could say the same thing," Raphael shot back almost humorously. He was strangely calm, for someone facing the murderers of his brother, at least. On the outside he looked collected, but on the inside he was boiling and bubbling with rage.  
  
That's when the fight began. Leonardo and Donatello were as willing to fight as Raphael, all wanting justice for their brother. They all drew their weapons and fought with determination, fuelled by their months of grief and anger. Leonardo took on five of the gang members, dealing with them forcefully and making them suffer in seconds like he had suffered over the past months. Donatello fought three of the brutes, quickly disposing of them before moving onto the next few, and so on.  
  
Raphael took it upon himself to seek out the man who had shot his brother, punching and kicking the odd thug as he did so. He soon found him, battling with Leonardo. Taking advantage of his foe's turned back, Raphael struck a powerful kick into the back of the male's neck, sending him choking to the ground. Raphael would not stoop to the level of the man, to murder, but he would cause the punk as much pain as he possibly could. For years he had lived by the ninja codes, to fight in defence, but the murder of his brother had temporarily thrown this out of the window, so to speak. He punched and kicked the man with all his might, applying full force for a constant three minutes.  
  
He ceased, panting and rasping for breath. Bent over, he did not see a gang member approach him, and he did not realise until his shell struck the ground that he had been jumped upon. The glint in the narrow eyes of the man, and that of the moonlight against the knife instantly told Raphael that he was in trouble. The man lowered the knife, but suddenly he stopped, an inch away from Raphael's flesh. The male doubled over in pain, the knife clattering to the ground as he clutched at his gut. Raphael sat up, and for a second the world around him seemed a little less dark. The turtle smiled wryly to himself, and whispered, "We're even now, Mikey. We're even."  
  
~  
  
When you cried I'd wipe away all of your tears  
  
When you'd scream I'd fight away all of your fears  
  
I held your hand through all of these years  
  
But you still have  
  
All of me  
  
~  
  
Raphael snapped out of his thoughts, and regained his bearings. The girl under the bridge had finished her song, and was plucking the last few chords from the guitar. He realised, at that moment, that he did not want his brother's spirit to leave him. He never wanted to forget about his brother and all the times that they had shared, good or bad. He had simply wanted some closure. But no, he thought to himself, death was not always the end. Michelangelo may have been gone in body, but his spirit was immortal.  
  
~  
  
The End 


End file.
